


Reformation

by whimsicalwhispers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Violence, Dom/sub Undertones, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:21:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28834788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicalwhispers/pseuds/whimsicalwhispers
Summary: After a messy end to the war, Draco stands trial for his crimes, but Hermione prevents him from going to Azkaban.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Kudos: 17





	1. Prologue

i.

“Don’t come any closer, Granger.”

Hermione stood, frozen in time, on the top step of the Astronomy Tower, her hand extended in front of her, fingers splayed, reaching desperately toward Draco Malfoy, who was standing on the ledge, his toes precariously hanging over the side. She couldn’t see his face but everything about his body language screamed that he was going to jump. The sun was nearly set and he could reasonably jump without anyone on the ground seeing or stopping him. It was dark enough that even if his mother or aunt were to see him falling, they might not realize it was him. 

“Malfoy, come on down,” she said, her voice shaking but full of false confidence. She could feel her wand burning through her pocket but she was afraid that if she reached for it, he’d know and do something rash and reactionary. 

“Turn around and go back down. Your friends need you,” he said, his voice frighteningly flat. He usually didn’t say two words to her that weren’t dripping in sarcasm or resentment. She thought about what was waiting for them on the ground. Fighting. Death. War. He wasn’t wrong. Her friends  _ did  _ need her right now. There was a battle happening right beneath their feet on school grounds and at the moment all signs pointed to them losing. But she couldn’t leave. Not with him standing on the ledge like that.

“They do. I think we might be losing down there,” she said, her voice thick and constricted. “You’re going to win. Why would you jump?”

Her tone was harsh and accusatory. She’d watched Fenrir Greyback rip the throat out of Lavender Brown and had been powerless to stop him. She’d had to physically step over the crumpled, lifeless body of Colin Creevey just on her way to the tower. And that was just today, in the last hour. The past seven years of her life had been dedicated to this fight, even if she hadn’t realized it at the beginning. And it felt like it had all been for nothing.

Draco turned his head and she could see the profile of his straight, aristocratic nose in the fading light. His brow was furrowed deeply but she couldn’t make out his exact expression.

“I didn’t want this.” 

Hermione remembered the last time she’d seen him before today. They’d been at Malfoy Manor. He’d lied about Harry to his family . She thought about how sick with misery he’d looked last year, knowing he was supposed to kill Dumbledore. She’d found herself thinking about it a lot over the last year, while camped out for days in the muck. Of course he hadn’t really wanted to do it. Anyone who had seen him that year had to know that… She swallowed hard.

“Then fight against it,” she replied irritably. 

Draco’s fists clenched.

“It’s easy for you to say that, isn’t it? Don’t let that reckless Gryffindor brain ruin your intellect, Granger. It’s a lot easier to take the moral high ground and ‘fight for what you believe’ when it’s not your family on the wrong side of things.”

Hermione checked him for signs of retreat. Though his tone was intense, his focus was on their argument and not jumping. She lowered her hand a little, giving herself less of a distance to move for her wand, should she need it.

“You can do the right thing without fighting. You can still do some good...but this...Malfoy, you have to know this doesn’t help anything,” she said, inching forward. 

Draco threw his arms from himself in an erratic gesture, stopping Hermione’s heart in her throat. He teetered only slightly on the ledge and didn’t seem to notice. Hermione slid her foot closer. 

“Help? I can’t bloody help and even if I could- what good does it do  _ me _ ? “

He turned to face her, his eyes blazing with anger and fear. Even in the pale moonlight she could see how tormented he was. Her eyes fell to his feet that were still firmly planted on the ledge. She tried to calculate if she preferred him facing her or not. It felt safer but he could still fall. She waved her hand toward him.

“Malfoy, now is not the time to be a selfish arse, just take my hand,” she begged. After all the loss she’d already seen that day, she didn’t think she could bear to watch him jump. “Please!”

Draco shook his head, looking down at his scuffed dress shoes. He rubbed his pale hair in frustration.

“This is so typical of you, Granger, stomping in where you aren’t wanted, giving orders and not giving a single solitary fuck what any of it means to anyone else. I mean, who the fuck are you to tell me what to do? I don’t need a bloody mudblood,” his voice cracked on this word as though he were crying, “telling me what to do all time. If I want to jump off this bloody tower and splat on the ground, that’s my bloody fucking right and I don’t need you coming here and ruining my last few moments on this Earth.”

Draco’s facade as a bully had always been precarious. It didn’t hold up under much scrutiny. He was a spoiled, entitled little shit, parroting the Dark, toxic things he’d learned from his family but Hermione had always been able to see what actually was under that bullshit. A scared shitless little boy. It hadn’t ever mattered much to her that he probably didn’t believe the shit he said, he wanted to believe it and that was enough to make him not worth her time, but right now, with his life on the line, it suddenly mattered a great deal.

“Do you even hear yourself?” she shrieked angrily, “You want to debate me on whether or not you’re  _ entitled  _ to kill yourself in peace? Fuck off!”

She almost never swore, but she was angry and she was scared and thankfully it proved to be effective. He was looking at her now, his cheeks damp and glistening in the soft light.

“You’re not entitled to  _ anything _ , Malfoy. You’ve treated me like trash for seven years. You’ve tormented my friends for years. You brought Death Eaters into Hogwarts and people are DYING! Dumbledore is DEAD because of you,” she took another confident step forward and Draco stayed still. “By all accounts you deserve to have me kill you or at the very least make your last moments as miserable as possible, so please, do not stand there and act like I owe you something. I have the blood of my friends soaked into the bottoms of my shoes right now and it’s all your side’s fault. Your family’s fault.”

Tears clouded her eyes and lip quivered until she bit down on it. She took a deep breath before continuing.

“Even as you stand there, calling me slurs and insulting me, I’m offering you my hand. I just don’t want you to die. So just..just take my damn hand and come on down…” 

He didn’t move. She took a step closer, her hand offered up to him.

“Draco….please…” 

She met his eyes and found that they looked bluer then ever in contrast to the ruddiness his crying had caused. His face had softened upon hearing his name leave her lips. He clenched his jaw. The moment hung between them for what felt like hours before he, with a shaking hand, reached out and took her hand. 

Hermione acted quickly and the moment they were linked, she yanked him off the ledge with all her strength and he came toppling down upon her. She didn’t let go of his hand, even as they crashed into the floor, afraid that if they ceased contact he’d just vanish off the ledge. They both froze for a moment, his long, lean body on top of hers, her forehead resting against his chest. She could feel his erratic breathing and knew that he was crying. Her own breath caught in her chest and she wanted nothing more than to cry too. But now wasn’t the time. She had work to do. 

It wasn’t until she began to detangle herself that Draco snapped back to himself. The relief of being saved was wearing off quickly as the reality set in. He had to remember who was dealing with now. Hermione Granger was not his friend. They weren’t on the same side of this fight, no matter how much either of them wished otherwise. He’d never been happy to lose an argument to her before, he wasn’t going to start today. He jerked away from her rapidly. 

“Draco?”

There it was again. His name. In her mouth. He frowned and looked away from her, wiping at his eyes. He couldn’t look at her but he nodded curtly. He couldn’t jump now. The moment was gone. 

“I’m going back down. You can come with me...I could get you somewhere safe. You could give us information, you could help us turn this battle around…” she trailed off, realizing that he wasn’t going to respond. She nodded and pulled her wand out. “Whatever. Stay here. Hide like a coward. It makes no difference to me.”

She turned to leave but stopped abruptly before spinning around to face him again, irritation and frustration written all over her face.

“Well, I can’t bloody well just  _ leave  _ you here,” she said in a huff. “ _ Stupefy! _ ”

The spell hit him with enough power to render him wholly unconscious. She sighed and approached him, checking his pulse to make sure his vitals were fine. Once she was satisfied, she dragged him into the shadow of the railing. 

“I’m not sorry, you know,” she muttered. “I couldn’t just let you go down there and join them, if you weren’t going to join us.”

Hermione got to her feet and wiped her cheeks dry. Screams echoed in the distance, piercing through the general rumble of warfare below. 

“At least this way, you won’t die.”

***

When Draco finally woke up he was in his bed at Malfoy Manor with a headache as sharp and mouth as dry as though he’d been on a bender. He squinted, finding the mid-morning sunlight that was streaming through the windows to be far too harsh. By the time his eyes fell on his mother, she was already rushing toward him, taking a seat on the side of his bed.

“Draco, you’re awake!” She sat on the edge of his bed and tenderly stroking his cheek. “The healers said you’d wake, but darling, it’s been days.”

Draco stared at her in utter surprise. Days? Had it really been days since the battle at Hogwarts?

“How many days?” he asked, his voice gruff from disuse. 

Narcissa Malfoy was too busy smoothing his linens and fluffing his pillows to answer right away. She was not necessarily the nervous sort, but Draco could tell she was very anxious indeed and it made him feel nauseated.

“Three,” she replied simply and the fact that she didn’t expand made Draco very concerned. 

He caught her wrist just before she went to tuck him into the bed even further. She had dark circles under her eyes as though she hadn’t been sleeping well but she looked less haggard than she had prior to the battle. There was a lightness in her that he hadn’t seen in years.

“What happened?”

“There’s no need to fret, love,” Narcissa cooed gently, brushing the damp hair off of his forehead. “We won.”

  
  
  
  



	2. The Black Adder

ii.

Six months later, Hermione sat with a few remaining members of the Order in an abandoned, deeply warded tunnel in the Underground. It was madness to even be in London right now, with the way the Death Eaters had swarmed the city. Hundreds of muggles had been killed in “freak” accidents but the Order knew the worst was yet to come. 

“I’ve received intel that there's a plan in place for the Death Eaters to overtake Parliament when they meet next month,” Kingsley explained. “It seems like a lot of time, but I am worried. I don’t have any details and our resources…”

“Are shit. There’s hardly any of us left.”

Hermione looked up at Ron. Even in the dim light, she could see the rage radiating off him. She glanced over at Harry, just wanting to make sure he was still sitting there. He hadn’t been right since the battle. He seemed hallowed out. They’d lost Ginny, George, Arthur and Molly that day. Tonks and Remus. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. There were only a dozen of them left, and most of them hadn’t been particularly active members beforehand. 

“There’s enough,” Neville replied softly. “We can’t give up. If we don’t keep fighting, those we’ve lost will have been lost in vain.”

Luna rested her head on Neville’s shoulder and he took her hand. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t say too much these days but she was faring better than most. 

“Our resources are not what they were,” Hermione spoke up. “But Neville’s right. We are few but we are strong. They suspect we are around, but they don’t know our safe houses, our meeting spots. I don’t even think they are certain which of us are still alive, which of us are still fighting. We can use that to our advantage. All we need is some more details. What day, what means, who is participating...answers to even just one of those questions could help us foil their plans.”

“It sounds quite dangerous,” Parvati said.

“8 million lives are at stake. We have to at least try,” Harry replied. Hermione could tell there wasn’t much fight in him left. He was tired. 

“Last meeting, I told you that I thought I’d discovered a rendezvous point for them and I was able to verify that at least,” Kingsley continued. “The Black Adder in Kingsbridge.”

“A little on the nose,” McGonagall derided. She was in no condition for field work post battle but she insisted on coming to every meeting. Hermione was glad for her presence though. If nothing else, it was soothing to see a familiar face but McGonagall was a wealth of knowledge. She’d been at this a long time. 

  
  


“They don’t much feel the need to hide, so I believe that so long as one of us can go undetected, we can gather more intel. “

Hermione looked around the circle and couldn’t help noticing that they were quite a sorry lot. Everyone was injured or burnt out in a way that made her uncomfortable. 

“I’ll do it.”

Of course it was Harry, volunteering. Hermione felt deep in the pit of her stomach that this was the wrong choice.

“No, I’ll go. You’re too important, and I know exactly what information we need to be successful,” she held up a hand to keep Ron from interrupting. “I’m muggleborn, so I have a better understanding of Parliament than most of us here anyway.” 

No one argued with her. Ron turned to Harry.

“She’s right. Could you loan her your invisibility cloak?”

Hermione shook her head.

“That won’t cut it. I’ll need Polyjuice potion. Before the battle, I knew that it would be valuable, and that should we ever need it, we wouldn’t have the time to properly brew it. So I brewed some in advance. I have some hidden in hidey holes throughout the city.”

Kingsley smiled slightly.

“Clever girl. Be careful who you decide to be. It should be someone who won’t draw attention, no one in the inner circles but not a random either.”

Hermione nodded.

“Yes, sir. I won’t let you down.”

***

Hermione didn’t want to waste even a single drop of Polyjuice, so she carefully changed her appearance using other means. She braided her wild hair and stuffed it under a short, mousy brown wig. She clumsily smeared her eyes with dark liner and stuck a fake nose ring onto the outer rim of her left nostril. Looking in the mirror she knew that even Ron wouldn’t think it was her at first glance. She was just a girl on the street. Another muggle in a city teeming with muggles. 

She trailed Daphne Greengrass for most of the day. She was a society girl with a pretty face but she was incredibly shy and seemingly had no personality. Her father was a Death Eater but not necessarily inner circle. In fact, Kingsley had received intel some weeks back that Greengrass was actually quite keen on climbing the ladder. Hermione could imagine it wouldn’t be strange if Daphne was seen rubbing elbows with higher ranking members, but she wasn’t exactly close with anyone. Hermione could slip in and out without having to fake much conversation.

She was from a reasonable distance as the sisters tried to purchase pastries from a sleazy looking street vendor who ended up giving them their treats ‘on the house’ after they struggled to count out their muggle coins. Hermione was quite surprised that more muggles hadn’t caught on to something strange going on in the city. There were more strangely dressed, money illiterate, abnormal folks around than ever. But she supposed living in a city could dull you to those sorts of things. It takes all sorts.

Hermione made a quick decision and sped up so she would be stuck behind the Greengrass sisters at the crosswalk. She casually walked up and pulled a long, blonde hair off of the girl’s coat. She glanced up at Astoria and confirmed she was a brunette before changing directions and walking away. 

***

Kingsley had assured her that Wednesday night was the safest bet for the pub to be populated with the right people, so Wednesday afternoon, Hermione dropped the hair into a simmering cauldron, chewing on her bottom lip as she waited for the right time to stir.

She thought perhaps she should be nervous, but her emotions felt very far away. Even as the discomfort of transfiguring hit her, she remained calm. Her heart did stop for a beat when she caught her reflection in the hall mirror on her way out. She stood, mesmerized by it. Hermione had never aspired to beauty. She had not spent hours staring at her face and hating its flaws. But she couldn’t help but wonder if Daphne’s life was a lot easier because she was beautiful. She was beautiful and not particularly clever, so maybe she didn’t feel the weight of the world on her shoulders in the same way Hermione did. Maybe she didn’t feel it at all. 

But as soon as the thought occurred to her, she buried it deep. No, that wasn’t a helpful line of thought. She didn’t envy Daphne’s beauty or lack of responsibility. Everyone considers how their life could be different if they were someone else, but Hermione wouldn’t trade places with anyone. She was capable of difficult but necessary work and so she did it. That’s how it was. She was at peace with it. She took a deep breath and slipped out into the city.

***

The Black Adder was several steps above any pub in Knockturn Alley. Draco was surprised to find that by all appearances, it was a very nice and ordinary muggle pub. There were a few tables with groups of people that were clearly muggles. He walked to the bar and ordered a club soda and lime, knowing it would be best to have a drink already in hand. He wasn’t interested in getting drunk tonight. He felt uneasy enough as it was. He paid the tab and turned his head toward the back of the pub. It was slightly darker back there but he could make out the faint glow of his father. He wasn’t wearing robes, but he wasn’t making an effort to blend in either. What was the point? They were going to take over soon. No sense in hiding.

He ran his eyes over who was there- his father, Rodolphus Lestrange, Blaise Zambini, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson and to his surprise, Daphne Greengrass. She had never struck him as a  _ true believer  _ but then again, with how things are going, he wasn’t sure that mattered anymore.

Across town in a different pub Bellatrix, the Carrows, Crabbe and Goyle were meeting and so on. Transfer of information was scattered and incomplete with only a select few knowing everything. Draco, of course, knew more than he should. His parents and his aunt communicated openly with each other and none of them ever seemed to care if he overheard. In fact, his father seemed keen to have him know as much as possible.  _ High risk, high reward.  _

He took a seat across from his father who was explaining his small gathering of young Death Eaters what was expected of them. They all seemed gleefully thrilled at the prospect of a very public, very theatrical show of force against the muggles. But not Daphne. She was listening intently, but her pale brows were furrowed. She was deep in concentration and did not seem in the least bit swept up in the drama of it all. 

Pansy placing her small hand on Lucius’ arm caught Draco’s attention.  _ What the hell is she playing at?  _ he thought angrily. She looked up at him through her lashes. It was only very recently that her features had matured into something alluring and she was only just learning how to wield her new found beauty. Draco knew his father wasn’t a fool, that he had to see through her blatant attempts at flirtation...and yet the older man did not shrug her off. The corner of his mouth curled slightly and he spoke softly to her, answering her question. 

Draco scowled and worked his jaw. He knew better than to say anything in front of everyone. He looked over and saw that Daphne was watching him carefully.

“What are you doing here?” he snapped. “I didn’t think you were a recruit.”

Daphne’s eyes widened.

“I-I’m not,” she replied. 

Theodore Nott stretched his arm around her and pulled her into him. Her body language was rigid, and did not relax at Theo’s touch. 

“She came here to see me, didn’t you, beautiful?”

Her lips twitched into a grin but Draco didn’t buy it. Poor thing had probably come to drink and flirt with Blaise, but was too timid and shy to turn Theo down. 

“Your father said I could stay,” she replied. 

Draco looked over at his father who seemed all too comfortable with Pansy’s clumsy flirting.  _ The old dog.  _

“I’m sure he did.”

Draco didn’t feel much like chatting, so he finished his drink and went up to get another. They didn’t need to know he was stone cold sober. He nursed this second drink, eavesdropping on Pansy praising his father’s leadership qualities while Rodolphus spoke openly with Blaise about various cloaking charms that were going to be in use for the attack. 

He looked over and Theo was murmuring drunkenly to clearly uninterested Daphne. She tried to politely excuse herself and got up from the table.

“You’ve been charming, Theo but I need to get home. My sister is expecting me.” 

“Oh come on, stay, have another drink,” he said, reaching out and grabbing her arm. Daphne tried to politely tug away from him but his grip was solid. With a strong yank, he pulled her close to him. Draco sat his cup down as he watched Daphne struggle against Theo. He kept hoping Theo would take a hint, but the libidinous prick was drunk on whisky and the promise of future violence. 

When it became quite clear that Theo wasn’t going to suddenly come to his senses, Draco got up and crossed the room in four quick strides. He reached out and grabbed Theo roughly by the arm. 

“Let her go,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “The lady wants to go home. Let her go home.”

Theo did not release Daphne, but the fight seemed to leave him as he realized Draco wasn’t asking.

“I don’t think Cypress Greengrass would take kindly to you debauching his daughter in a muggle pub,” Draco reminded him.

Theo let go of Daphne’s arm and his whole demeanor changed.

“Don’t be so dark, Draco, I wasn’t...you know that, right Daphne? We were just having a bit o’fun. Of course she can go home.”

Daphne took a deep breath and stuck her chin up and out in a gesture that reminded Draco of someone else.

“Thank you,” she said, breathlessly and then walked out of the pub as calmly and quickly as she could manage. Draco turned back to Theo.

“Get your shit together, mate.”

Theo ran his fingers through his hair and gave his friend an apologetic grin.

“You’re a good friend. Annoying, but good.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

  
  
  


Hermione had barely made it three blocks from the pub before she felt the Polyjuice start to wear off. As uncomfortable as it was, it didn’t distract her from the burning on her arm where Theo had been gripping her. It had been an extremely close call. If it hadn’t been for Draco… she didn’t want to think about it. 

She had got what she wanted. She knew when the Death Eaters were going to attack Parliament. She knew what kind of cloaking spells would be used and a list of who was expected to act. It wasn’t everything, but it was enough. It had to be. 


End file.
